


like peanut butter and jelly

by freefall



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016-2017 NHL Season, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, basically crackfic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefall/pseuds/freefall
Summary: In which Sid and Geno are oblivious, Sully and Ovi are supportive, and Flower and Tanger attempt to troll the Pens beat reporters but end up trolling themselves.(AKA the one where everyone thinks Sid and Geno are dating.)





	like peanut butter and jelly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kayxpc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayxpc/gifts).



> This fic takes place at the beginning of the 2016-17 season. Flower is still there. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by [this article](http://triblive.com/sports/penguins/11122343-74/crosby-malkin-exhibition%20%20) (the author’s name was changed to protect the innocent). It was also inspired by a conversation with [fahbee](http://fahbee.tumblr.com/) and [cakemakethme](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/cakemakethme) (also in 2016—I’ve been sitting on this for a long time).
> 
> Thank you [Beth](http://gotmehookedonthekpop.tumblr.com/) for the amazing beta. You're awesome.
> 
> This is for you, [kayxpc](http://dropss0fjupiter.tumblr.com/). Thanks for the chance to finally write this. Hope you like it!

Daniel Schulman was in a moral dilemma, one that he was sure that all beat reporters for the Pens faced at one time or another. On one hand, journalistic integrity meant telling the truth. On the other, he had been reporting on the Pens for eight years, and these guys were basically his friends by now. Sid had sent a congratulations card when his wife had their baby. And there were some secrets that just weren't meant to be told, especially about friends.

Daniel was 99.9% sure that Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin were in a romantic relationship. He had first noticed at the beginning of his assignment reporting on the Pens that they didn't behave like normal teammates. Daniel was married. He knew what flirting looked like. They had become even closer over the years. Now, they were riding into practice and leaving together, and after they won the Cup, Geno had held Sid in his arms while Sid buried his face into his neck for a long moment. Daniel wasn't an idiot. He could read a play. They were obviously together. 

So far, he had been getting around the dilemma by just reporting the facts. He would say things like "Malkin and Crosby rode into practice together this morning,” or “Malkin was asked who his favorite player was, and he said Sid.” So, he was both telling the truth and letting people draw their own conclusions. But this latest article ... well. It might have crossed a line. 

Daniel had only written what Fleury and Letang had told him, but he was worried that if they published this one, people would actually pick up on it. He had always half-hoped that people would, because hiding the truth went against his basic instincts as a journalist. Now that he was actually faced with the possibility, though, he was having second thoughts. His editor had already approved it, though, and it was all set to publish. At this point, it was out of his hands. 

* * *

Geno was grocery shopping when his cell phone rang. The screen said "Alex Ovechkin." He looked down at the salmon in his cart and silently asked it what he had done to deserve this. It was never a good sign when Sasha called out of the blue. 

"What do you want, Sasha," he answered flatly.

"To offer you my congratulations!" Sasha was completely unbothered by the brusque reception.

"What are you talking about?" 

"About you and Crosby, of course! Congratulations to the happy couple!"

Geno froze. "What— how— how did you—" How had Sasha realized?! He knew he wasn't exactly subtle, and it was just like Sasha to chirp him about his obvious, pathetic crush on Sid, but if he was going to figure it out, wouldn't he have done so years ago?

There was a long silence on the other side of the phone while Geno tried to come up with a coherent sentence that wasn't "fuck."

"Zhenya?" Sasha finally asked cautiously. "I was just joking, you know, about that article in the Pittsburgh paper. It was talking about how close you two are. What— I mean, are you really—"

"NO!" Geno interrupted. "Nothing's going on here, haha, very funny joke." He forced himself to chuckle weakly, but he knew he wasn't going to get out of this that easily. Sasha was worse than a shark when he scented blood in the water. Fuck, what article was Sasha talking about? Did he just blow his _ten-year long_ cover because of another stupid article about _hockey chemistry_?! 

Sometimes, discretion was the better part of valor. Geno hung up. 

His phone dinged with an incoming message a moment later. It was from Sasha, of course.   _R u dating Sidney?????_ was all it said. 

Geno groaned to himself and shut off his phone. Well, _that_ definitely wasn't true. As if Sidney would date him anyway.  Sid wasn’t even into guys. 

* * *

****

> **As the twin pillars that have formed the foundation of the Penguins for the last decade, Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin are inexorably bound in the collective psyche of local hockey fans. Sid and Geno. Peanut butter and jelly. The star centers who have carried the team to a pair of Stanley Cup championships in the past eight years.  
>  **
> 
> ** At first, it was an arranged marriage. Thanks to the way the ping-pong balls bounced in the NHL draft lottery process, Crosby and Malkin were thrust together into the Penguins lineup about 10 years ago whether they liked it or not. As it turns out, they liked it. If they didn't, they could have elected to test free agency by now. Instead, Crosby signed a 12-year contract extension in 2012 and Malkin signed an eight-year deal in 2013. **
> 
> ** In other words, it's now a partnership they willingly have entered.**

****  


Marc-Andre looked up from the article on his phone, met Kris's eyes, and they both simultaneously burst into laughter. Poor Daniel, they were maybe messing with him too much. It was just so fun to play with his paranoia, though.  Tanger finally calmed down, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. "You know," Tanger said, "What makes this so funny is that everything we said was true."

"Yeah," Marc-Andre snorted, "but it's not like they're actually dating or anything."

"Of course not," Kris was quick to agree. "Just because they drive in together most mornings doesn't mean anything. They live near each other. It just makes sense."

"Right. And yeah, G teases Sidney a lot, but that's just how they are."

"Right, right. And they go home together a lot because they stay late practicing," Kris added, looking pensive. "It just...makes...sense." He looked at Marc-Andre. Marc-Andre looked back. 

Marc-Andre was feeling a dawning sense of realization. Or maybe of horror. It was like he was looking at one of those pictures of vases and all of a sudden was seeing an old woman. "You don't think—"

Kris stared back at him, face white. "No, that can't be. We would know, they would have told us."

"Yes!" Marc-Andre seized onto that bit of hope like a drowning man clutching a life vest. "You're right, they would have told us. Wouldn't they?"

They both couldn't help but swing around and stare at Sid tying his skates in his stall, searching for any sign that he was secretly having a torrid love affair with one of their teammates. 

Sid was trying to tie his skates but kept getting interrupted by Geno poking him with his stick. Geno then hooked his stick around Sid's glove and pulled it away just as Sid reached for it. Anyone else messing with his equipment would get a swift and vicious dressing down, but Sid was laughing too hard to get anything out besides a giggly "G, stop it!" And worse, he was _blushing._

Marc-Andre turned to Tanger, who matched his own horrified expression with one of his own. " _Tabernac_ ," Kris whispered with feeling. 

Marc-Andre was swiftly feeling like he was going to be sick. It was more than just that he felt like he just discovered his parents were having sex— fuck, _Sid_ and _Geno_ were probably having sex, my God— because—. "Kris," he choked out. "Did we just out them?"

"Oh fuck," Tanger breathed.

* * *

Sidney came to an abrupt stop as he entered the dressing room after practice. Geno hadn't stayed after with him today, and he had finished late enough that he had expected to be the only one still there. But Tanger and Flower were still sitting in their stalls, fully dressed, and, from the way they had looked straight at Sid when he came in, they were waiting for him. Their faces were pale and eyes wide.

"Um, hi guys?" He said, shuffling warily into the room. "What's up?"

They looked at each other, and Flower took a deep breath.  "Have you seen the article?" he asked grimly.

"What article?" Sidney asked, now more worried. There were a lot of articles written about him, but usually they all said the same thing and weren't worth mentioning. 

"Come, sit down," Flower said. He and Tanger both stood up and ushered him over to his stall. Sid felt rather like an invalid or a Victorian debutante. They sat down on either side of him, and Flower handed him his phone. "Just so you know, before you read, we're really sorry."

Well _that_ can't be good. Sid looked down to see a _Tribune-Review_ article dated yesterday. As he read, he could feel the worried lump in his stomach turn into a bowling ball of horror. He knew that his crush on Geno was way more than admiration for his hockey but seeing it all laid out on the page like that—. Was he that obvious? Did everyone know, and were they secretly laughing at him this whole time? Did _Geno_ know? He thought he was going to throw up. He finished the article but was unable to look up, phone clenched between white-knuckled fingers.

"We are so sorry!" Tanger burst out. "We had no idea, we were just joking. We just realized it today."

"Sidney," Flower said urgently, putting his hand on his shoulder. "We would _never_ have said anything if we suspected. You have to believe us."

Sid took a deep breath and looked up. They were his friends and his team. They weren't laughing at him. It was an honest mistake. He clenched his eyes tightly, and then opened them.

"It's okay," he said dully. "It was only a matter of time, anyway, right?"

"I wouldn't worry about anyone realizing from reading the article," Flower said. "It is a bit suggestive, but these are hockey fans. I doubt anyone will suspect anything."

"Who else knows?" Sidney asked. 

"Just us," Tanger answered. "And Daniel, the reporter, I guess. Unless you told anybody?"

Sidney laughed bitterly. "Why would I tell anyone? Well, Taylor knows, I guess."

"Oh Sid," Flower breathed. His eyes were big and damp. "Your parents don't even know?"

"Um, no?" Sid answered. Why would he tell his parents about his pathetic crush on a straight guy? And worse, a _teammate_? "My dad would just think it was an unnecessary distraction from hockey, anyway," he said. Flower looked even more hurt, and Tanger gripped him on the shoulder tightly.

"You know we always have your back, right?" Tanger asked. "We fucked up here, but now that we know, you can count on us." Flower nodded seriously.

Despite himself, Sidney could feel himself smile weakly. "Thanks, guys," he said. "It'll be fine. I just need to wait for this to pass, right?" After all, he had to get over Geno eventually right? He didn't let himself think about how he had been telling himself that for two Cup wins and almost ten years.

Tanger and Flower exchanged a look. "Don't worry, Sid," Flower said to him determinedly. "We'll take care of it."

Sid stared at them. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

* * *

_ "Allo,” Marc _ -Andre said absently, juggling his phone in one hand and putting away dishes with the other.

"Flower!"

"Ovechkin?! Why are you calling?" He asked suspiciously. 

"I'm calling about Zhenya and Sid," Ovechkin answered. "What do you know?"

Marc-Andre froze. "What do _you_ know?" he replied suspiciously. 

"I know many things," Ovechkin answered loftily. "I am Zhenya's best friend. You know this. He tells me everything. So, I’m looking out for my best friend. You understand, _da_?"

"You’re Geno's best friend, huh? Funny, he never mentioned that," Flower said.

"Maybe you don't listen well," Ovechkin said, before pausing gravely. "Seriously, Fleury. I saw that article yesterday. Zhenya and Sid are good friends, and I want to take care. Were you just joking? What you know?"

"Ugh, fine," Marc-Andre sighed in defeat. "Kris and I just found out they are dating today. We would never have said anything for the article if we knew."

"I knew it!" Alex crowed. "He can't fool me. I _knew_ they were dating! I must send Sidney flowers. He deserves it for putting up with that ugly face."

Marc-Andre groaned to himself and mashed his hand into his face. "You fucker. You really didn't know," he said. "Ovechkin— Ovi, come on. _Alex._ This is serious. _"_

Ovechkin finally stopped laughing. "Yes," he said solemnly. "How much that journalist know?"

"I don't think he knows anything for sure," Marc-Andre said tiredly. "He has strongly suspected for a while, though. And Kris and I were just trying to mess with him, but we basically confirmed it."

"You think he say anything?" Alex asked shrewdly. 

"I have no idea," Marc-Andre answered. "But he's a journalist, so it is very possible."

Ovechkin said something in Russian that Marc-Andre didn't understand, but, from the sound of it, he emphatically agreed with. "You want me to talk to him?" Alex asked. "Make sure he keep his mouth shut?"

Marc-Andre had a sudden vision of police sirens and Russian mob hits. "Thanks, Alex," he said nervously. "But Kris and I can handle it."

"I'm coming with," Ovechkin said decisively. "French-Canadians are not scary enough. You need a Russian for this job. It's off day tomorrow. I fly in. Pick me up from the airport."

"Wait—" Marc-Andre said before the sound of the dial tone met his ears. "Shit" he mouthed to himself. Sid was actually going to kill him. 

* * *

When Sidney's doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon, he opened the door in confusion to see Geno standing there holding takeout bags. His stomach leapt in excitement and then sank straight down to the floor when he remembered that morning’s conversation.

"Geno. What are you doing here?"

"Hang out, Sid," Geno answered, bullying his way past Sid into the house and kicking off his shoes. "Sent many texts."

Sidney hadn't even looked at his phone since the disastrous end of practice. "Oh, um" he started feebly. "Now is a little, um—" but then he saw Geno looking at him, wide-eyed and pleading. "Come on in," Sid said with a sigh. Someday he will learn how to say no to Geno, but apparently today was not that day.

Geno went directly to the living room and made himself comfortable on Sid's couch, unpacking the take-out bags onto the table and turning on HGTV. He had even gotten Sid's favorite meal-plan-approved meal, salmon and rice, from one of Sid's favorite restaurants. "Thanks, G," Sidney said and sat down on the couch next to him, careful to leave plenty of space between them. 

Geno threw him a confused look. Normally, Sidney sat much closer, something that Sid was now realizing to his embarrassed chagrin wasn't exactly normal bro behavior. 

"Everything okay?" Geno asked. Sid thought he almost seemed ... nervous? But that couldn't make sense.

"Fine," Sidney said, staring firmly at the TV where a couple was now trying to decide whether a frankly hideous house was worth refurbishing or not. 

"Okay," Geno answered slowly. He reached out and gently grabbed Sidney's shoulder. Despite himself, Sid felt himself relax into the touch turning towards Geno like he always does. Geno looked serious and steady as he rubbed Sid's shoulder. "You can tell me, you know? If something's wrong."

"I know," Sidney said, managing a small smile. This wasn't Geno's fault. Sid was the one with a creepy crush on a straight teammate, and he would manage it. He always had before. "It's okay, G. I promise.”

"Okay," Geno said, and pulled Sidney in towards him firmly wrapping his arm around his shoulder and holding him tight against his side. "Look at house," Geno said, nodding towards the TV. "Nice place, yes? Should keep. Good for kids and dog."

"What, are you crazy?" Sid couldn't help but burst out. "That's the ugliest house I've ever seen." He leaned into Geno's side comfortably. This was just a simple crush, and he could manage it. He just had to focus on hockey. Sidney let his head rest on Geno's shoulder. Besides, this was more than enough.

* * *

Daniel stared at the three men in front of him silently thinking to himself that his mother was right, and what goes around comes around. He _knew_ they shouldn't have published that article. Fleury and Letang were sitting in the chairs in his office glaring at Daniel forbiddingly. And Daniel watched Letang attempt murder on the ice multiple times a week, so that was actually pretty intimidating. Behind them stood Alex Ovechkin for some reason, arms crossed and seemingly trying to will Daniel to death with his eyes. What was he even doing in Pittsburgh?

"Um," Daniel finally ventured hesitantly. "Is this about the article?"

Letang and Fleury gave each other the most eloquent is-he-fucking-kidding-me glares that Daniel had seen since his in-law’s place at Christmas, and then turned to him and scoffed in unison. Daniel felt a bead of sweat slowly trickle down his spine. 

“Of course, this is about the article,” Letang said. “You shouldn’t have written that.”

“You guys were the ones who gave me the quotes, though—"

“I know, but we were wrong.” 

Fleury leaned forward and met Daniel’s gaze earnestly. “Look, Dan, we shouldn’t have said any of that. Sid is our friend, and we shouldn’t have gone prying into his business like that. But Sid and Geno are your friends too, right? We’re asking you to respect their privacy and not write anything— you know.  Do the right thing, Dan.”

“Or you regret it,” Ovechkin put in darkly from the back. He cracked his knuckles obnoxiously. Letang rolled his eyes.

Daniel sat frozen in his chair unable to even process what he heard. Were they really saying what he thought they were saying? He had thought, suspected, but he had never imagined actually having his suspicions confirmed. “You mean they’re really—“

He was met by three hard gazes and firmly shut mouths. Which was answer enough he supposed. He let out a shaking breath and leaned forward, bracing his head in his hands on his desk for a brief moment just to get his bearings. Then he pushed up and met their gazes firmly. 

“Okay, I get it. I won’t say anything. Sid and Geno are my friends too, and everyone in this paper are Pens fans. We’re on their side, and we’ve got their backs. You can trust us.” It was probably wrong of him, but he felt a little thrill as he said this. He _knew it._ Davey in football could go suck eggs.

Fleury and Letang exchanged glances and then nodded at him. “Good,” Letang said. Suddenly Fleury was all smiles. “Knew you were a good person, Daniel!” he said.

Daniel smiled tremulously back. “Yeah,” he said weakly. 

The three hockey players bustled out shoving each other raucously but cheerful enough, and Daniel leaned back at his desk with a heavy sigh. Holy shit. He had to talk to his boss.

“LOU,” he shouted. “You owe me twenty bucks!”

* * *

Geno stared at the side of Sidney’s head as he concentrated hard on poking the chicken searing in the pan.  Sidney was ignoring him, but Geno could tell by the flush rising to the tips of his ears that Sid was aware of him. “Geno, stop,” Sidney finally giggled.

“You being weird,” Geno said, eyes narrowed. 

Sidney stopped laughing.

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes. Weird. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Geno. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Sid was still determinedly staring at the chicken and avoiding Geno’s eyes.

“You not looking at me, not wanting to watch TV, not wanting to hang out so much. I do something wrong?” Geno’s casual tone failed him at the last sentence and it came out embarrassingly plaintive. 

“What? No.” Sidney finally spun to look at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay, Geno? This is all me.”

“What’s wrong, Sid?”

“I—I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. It’s fine, though. I promise. I’m dealing with it.”

“I help you deal with it.”

“This isn’t really something you can help me with, G.” Sidney smiled, but above it his eyes looked tired. “I’m fine, okay? Just leave it.”

“Sid—”

“ _Leave it,_ okay?”

There was a long, charged silence.

“Okay, Sid,” Geno finally said. “Just—you can talk to me, okay? We friends.”

Sidney crumpled just a bit. “I know, Geno. We’re friends.” He bit his lip and turned away.

After Sid finished cooking their dinner, they plated it up and took it to the couch to watch TV while eating like usual. Instead of sitting right up against him, though, Sidney sat at the far end of the couch. They didn’t talk much while watching, but the silence didn’t feel comfortable like usual.  Geno couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something was broken irretrievably. 

* * *

The entire sports section of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review huddled around Daniel’s desk like they were kids at a sleepover. 

“What the fuck,” Davey whispered to himself. Molly actually had both of her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide. Lou, his battle-hardened, no-nonsense boss, said, “Well, I’ll be damned.” She took a twenty out of her wallet and slapped it onto Daniel’s desk.

Daniel was feeling the sweet, sweet taste of vindication, but he couldn’t forget Fleury’s words. “We really can’t print this, though,” he said.

“No, no, of course not. It wouldn’t be right. But what a news story…” Davey said.

“Outing people, _hockey players,_ without their consent isn’t exactly journalistic integrity,” Daniel said.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. We need to keep this quiet.” Molly nodded. “God, could you imagine if the fucking _Post_ got this? Those bastards would never be tactful about this like we are.”

Their conversation was interrupted by their boss chuckling to herself staring straight over Daniel’s head at the wall with a grin on her face.

“Um. Lou?”

Lou broke out into full-out, belly-aching laughter. Her grey head thrown to the ceiling like a Disney villain. The rest of them eyed her warily. “Sorry, sorry,” she finally said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to keep our mouths shut like the class act, Pittsburgh-loyal paper that we are. And then I will live the rest of my days happy with the memory of Greg from the _Post-Gazette’s_ fucking face when we get the exclusive on this. And when I tell him that we’ve known for _months...”_ She laughed again, maniacally.

“Daniel,” Lou snapped. “Go tell Mike Sullivan that we will be completely trustworthy and discreet about this. You don’t have to actually say the word ‘exclusive,’ but he should know what you mean.”

“Got it, boss,” Daniel said.

Which is how he ended up here, sitting across the desk from Mike Sullivan. Who kind of scared him, to be perfectly honest. 

Sullivan looked at him kind of impatiently while shuffling papers on his desk. “What is this about, Schulman? We’ve got a game tonight.”

“I know. I’ll be quick, I swear, and then out of your way. I’m just here to talk about Crosby and Malkin.”

Sullivan paused his paper shuffling and looked up at Daniel. “What about them?”

“Well,” Daniel stalled. He wasn’t sure how you said this thing out loud. “We know. But we, at the _Tribune,_ just wanted to assure you that we are loyal Penguins fans and fully believe in the right to choose your own moment to go public with this kind of thing—"

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sullivan said, holding up his hand. “What is this actually about?”

“Um. About them dating.”

“Sid and Geno. Dating.”

“Yes?”

“You’re sure about this.”

“Yes. It’s been confirmed.”

Daniel wasn’t sure if Sullivan was surprised by this information, or if he was angry that the _Trib_ knew, or what. His face was expressionless. He had to know, though. Right? Crosby and Malkin were his star players. 

Sullivan finally seemed to gather himself, as he continued, “I’m not confirming or denying anything. We trust that you will be discreet about our players’ private, personal lives, though, if you want to maintain your level of access to this organization.”

“Of course, of course. We would never do such a thing. We respect people’s right to come out in their own time.”

Sullivan looked at him sharply. “In their own time, in an exclusive article or interview?”

Daniel shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

Sullivan sighed. “We’ll keep it in mind. Now, if you excuse me, we have actual hockey to play here.”

“Of course. I’ll get out of your way.”

And Daniel did just that. 

* * *

Sidney had been avoiding Geno all week. He felt bad about it, but he just couldn’t face him and act like normal. He needed to get over this stupid, fucking humiliating crush. So, Sidney was professional on the ice and avoided Geno off, and it was fine. It was working. Sid could tell Geno was getting increasingly hurt, and he felt bad about it. But he just needed a little more time. 

He was just contemplating a strategic detour to the equipment room to talk to Dana to avoid Geno, who was finishing getting changed and was giving him a stare down, when Sully poked his head into the room and barked, “Sid. Geno. My office.”

Sid exchanged glances with Geno, but the other man just shrugged one shoulder. Sid headed off towards Sully’s office with Geno close behind, shoulders straightened against the stare he felt on his back.

To his surprise, it wasn’t just Sully in his office. Jen, the Pens’ PR person, was sitting there, too, in a chair pulled in from somewhere. Sid sat down warily, Geno to his left. He looked from Jen, back to Sully, and then back to Jen. “What’s going on?” 

“Sid,” Sully starts, and then pauses, seeming to search for words. “You know we don’t care about our players’ personal lives, but—I wish you had trusted us enough to say something. You know you both are the heart of the room and our team. Regardless of what happens, we need to play the game the right way, shift by shift. Penguins hockey.”

Sid blinked. “What?”

Sully looked at Jen helplessly. Jen cleared her throat and shifted. “What I think Mike is trying to say, is that the Penguins organization completely supports the both of you and your relationship. While I wish you would have said something earlier, not just because you’re our friends, but because it would be better to have formed an action plan for various options right away. It’s not too late to do that.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sidney said. “What relationship?”

Jen looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Sidney. I know how much you value your privacy. But I’m afraid the cat’s already out of the bag. It’s beginning to get around how you and Geno are dating.”

Geno made some kind of sound next to him, but Sidney couldn’t turn to look. 

“I think there’s some mistake—”

“C’mon, Sid,” Sully said dismissively. “I never said anything because it’s none of my business, but the whole team knows you’re in love with each other.”

Sidney felt all the blood drain from his face. He was right to worry about this when Flower and Tanger had told him about the article. Everyone did know. Did _Geno_ know?

Sid knocked his chair to the ground with a clatter and ran out of the room. 

Sid heard exclamations of surprise and Jen’s voice calling his name, but he didn’t turn around. Horrifyingly, his eyes felt hot and he could feel tears welling up. He made a bee-line for an always-empty equipment room.

“Sid!” he heard Geno call from behind him, but he just sped up. Geno caught up to him and spun him to face him. 

“Geno, stop,” Sid choked out and tried to push him off. 

“Sid. Sid, what’s wrong?” Geno’s voice sounded frantic, and he moved his hands from Sid’s arms to cupping his face. 

Sidney finally dragged is eyes up to meet Geno’s. “’What’s wrong?’ You heard what Jen said back there.  This is so fucking embarrassing.”

Geno looked stricken, and he paled before Sid’s eyes. He let go of Sidney’s face like his hands were burned. “I’m—I’m sorry. Never meant to make you uncomfortable. All my fault.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean ‘uncomfortable’? This is my fault.”

Geno shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Not your fault I—.” He stops, swallows. “I tell Sully, Jen they make mistake.  Sorry I embarrass.”

“What, Geno, no.” Despite himself, Sid felt a tiny bubble of hope forming in his chest. “I’m not embarrassed because of you, I’m embarrassed because of me. I was so obvious, everyone knew. I thought—you were pitying me.  Weren’t you?”

Geno looked blank. “Pity? Wait, ‘obvious’? Sid.” His eyes widened and he took his hands out of his pockets to reach for Sid, then stopped right before he touched him. “Sid, please explain,” he begged.

Sidney flushed all the way down his throat. His tears finally welled over, and with a low, hurt noise deep in his throat, Geno cupped his face again. Geno wiped them away with his thumbs. “Please, Sid.”

“I … I thought it was obvious how in love with you I was,” Sidney finally whispered. His eyes dropped instinctively, but then he forced himself to meet Geno’s gaze. Geno looked frozen, mouth hanging open.

“Shit, I’m sorry—” Sid tried to wrench himself away, but Geno wouldn’t let him. Geno pulled him back in, one hand on his shoulder and the other threading into his hair at the base of his neck and kissed him. Sidney didn’t kiss back at first, frozen in surprise. _Was this really happening?_

“I love you so much,” Geno pulled back minutely to say. “Love you so long.” Sidney shuddered, and sank into Geno’s embrace.

What could have been minutes or hours later, Sid started at a voice cheering in excitement. They pulled away from each other slightly, although Geno still had one arm wrapped around his back and the other in his hair, and both of Sid’s arms were around Geno’s waist. They were still right in the middle of the hallway. Dan Potash was there, doing a dorky little fist pump. He tore off down the hallway towards the locker room shouting, “It’s finally happened! It’s finally happened!”

Sidney blushed and looked up to meet Geno’s eyes. Geno was looking down at him tenderly. 

“So,” Sid said, and immediately felt like an idiot.

“So,” Geno repeated and kind of smirked. Sidney pinched him on the waist, and Geno yelped. 

“Abuse!” Geno said, laughing. “Is this what kind of boyfriend you are?”

“Boyfriend?”

Geno stopped laughing and shrugged, looking shy. “Okay? I love you. Want to date, if you want.”

“Yes,” Sidney said immediately, without even stopping to think. “Yes, I want.” He leaned up to kiss Geno, again, although it was made difficult because they were both smiling. 

* * *

They stumbled into Sidney’s front foyer, attached to each other’s mouths and Geno’s hands buried in Sidney’s hair. He spared the tiniest thread of a thought for how he missed Sid’s curls before he was fully consumed again in the feel of Sid’s mouths on his. Sidney kicked the front door closed behind them and then very firmly began moving them to the stairs. 

“What’s big rush?” Geno teased.

“Well, apparently we’ve been dating for forever, so this is long overdue.”

Geno was forced to let go of Sidney in order to climb the stairs as rapidly as possible. Sidney almost beat him there, and they fell into Sid’s bedroom already tangled up in each other again.

“I wanted this for so long,” Sidney groaned into his mouth. Geno felt his breath catch.

“Me too, Sid. Longest.”

They fell to the bed with a bounce, Sid straddling Geno’s waist with his impressive thighs. Sid ground down and Geno let out a loud moan.

“Sid,” he gasped. He couldn’t help but arch his back into the sheets. “Sid, fuck.”

Sid attacked his mouth enthusiastically again and once more ground down. Geno clenched his hands around Sid’s waist and forced himself upward with all of his strength. He barely managed to budge Sid at all. The strength in Sidney’s ass, thighs, and every muscle in his body meant he could be moved in bed just as infrequently as he could be shoved off the puck. It was blisteringly hot. Still, they managed to fall into a rhythm with each other. Sid leaned over all the way to kiss Geno, while grinding down again and again, and Geno rose up to meet him as much as he could. He hadn’t had sex this clothed, or this desperate, since high school, but God it was so good.

Within minutes, Geno seized up with a shout and came in his pants. Sidney moaned and shoved his hands down the front of his sweatpants to frantically work at himself. Geno was dazed with bliss, but he managed to gather his bearings enough to bat Sidney’s hands away and to get his hand around Sid himself. 

Sidney’s cock felt warm and silky soft, and Geno only gave him a few thrusts before Sid came into his hand. Unlike Geno, Sid came silently, jaw dropped and eyes closed in ecstasy. 

Sidney finally relaxed and thumped straight down onto chest. Geno let out a grunt as the air was pushed out of him and then buried his clean hand in Sidney’s hair. 

“Wow,” Sidney mumbled into his neck. Geno couldn’t help but preen. 

“Yes, I’m very good.”

“You’re something alright.” Despite his grumbling, Sidney dropped a little kiss on Geno’s neck affectionately, and Geno gave a full body shiver. “Ugh,” Sid said. Geno could feel Sidney wrinkle his nose against his neck. “I feel super gross. I can’t believe we didn’t even get our pants off.”

Geno felt pretty gross himself, to be honest, but he still said smugly, “You wanted me so bad, huh.”

Sidney bit his teeth down very gently on Geno’s neck in punishment, and then rolled himself off of Geno, which was the real punishment. He wandered toward the connected bathroom. “I’m going to get a washcloth,” he said, “then we’re gonna get cleaned up and get dinner.”

“You’re going to be bossy boyfriend, huh? Just like captain.”

Sidney threw a smirk over his shoulder, hands working at his belt. “Are you surprised?” He dropped his pants, stepped out of them, and then strode into the bathroom in just underwear. Geno’s jaw dropped. He launched himself out of bed and followed him in.

* * *

Sidney woke up slowly, before his alarm and with the sun on his face. He felt deliciously warm. Geno was tucked up behind him, arm around his waist and morning stubble buried in the back of his neck. This was the best way he’d woken up probably ever. He arched his back, stretching as much as he could in Geno’s grip, rubbing against Geno’s morning wood as he did so. Geno grumbled something indistinct and pulled him in closer. Sidney didn’t even try to stifle his smug smile. Sid knew well after all these years that Geno wasn’t a morning person, but maybe he could be persuaded. He was just about to roll over and start to wake Geno up with kisses on his neck, when the front buzzer rang.

Well. Morning sex would have to wait a little, then.

He extracted himself from Geno’s octopus-like grip and pulled on his robe and slippers. He’d just look at who was at the gate and, if it wasn’t important, go back to bed. Go back to _Geno_ in _his bed_. God, he was lucky.

He made it downstairs to the intercom and saw in the viewing window a bored-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. He immediately broke out into a grin. Geno was such a romantic. But how did he manage to order flowers last night without Sid noticing? 

He buzzed the deliveryman in and met him at the door. 

“Delivery for Crosby.” The man either didn’t recognize him or, more likely, didn’t care, thankfully.

It was a gorgeous, truly gigantic bouquet of lilies, tulips, and some little pink flower that he didn’t recognize. He thanked the man and shut the door before he looked at the card.

_ Congrats on getting second best Russian dick ever!!!! (after me)  _ it said. Sidney had half a second to be confused before he noticed the signature. 

_ Ovi #8  _ it read.

Of course. Sidney rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t be annoyed. He was too happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
